The Force of a Gun
by Psychotype
Summary: They had lied. Because picking up a gun for the first time is not easy.


**A oneshot explaining how Zoey first learned how to shoot. Please read and review!**

**-Psychotype**

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They had lied. The books, the movies, the video games, they had all lied. In those worlds, the hero or heroine would be thrust in danger, and would be able to pick up a gun and shoot the villain or villains to pieces. It was that easy. It was supposed to be that easy.

But it wasn't that easy.

Zoey hated to leave her old weapon behind. It had been such a good weapon; a short pole with a small knife taped to the end of it. Zoey had constructed it in her college dorm when she heard of the violent outbreak, and it had been perfect. Short enough for her to control, but long enough so she didn't have to feel the warm blood gushing onto her hands, long enough so she didn't have to see red stain her clothes or have blood splatter her face. With it, she could punch a Hunter through it's stomach, could cut off a Smoker's tongue.

Sure, there were close calls. It was hard to kill with tons of zombies surrounding her, and it was easy to be quickly fatigued since she had to lurch forward every time she stabbed an infected. Still, it helped her survive by herself until she found Bill, Francis, and Louis to stick with.

This new group she was in, however, didn't want her to use her "sword". Bill and Francis both cried out, "What do you do if you reach a Tank?" or "What about long distance zombies?" Louis had admired it, saying it was well constructed, but agreed.

"Zoey, you'll have to learn how to use a gun."

So here she was. Outside the safe room. Right next to the door. Louis had constructed a "gun range" by drawing squares on the wall with a marker he had found. He handed Zoey a pistol.

"So, you load it like this," he said, demonstrating how to squeeze the bullets into the magazine, how to put the magazine back in place, "And you focus on your target by looking through the front or rear sight." He showed her all the parts of the gun. "You put your thumb here, and hold tight, then you shoot."

Zoey focused on the gun in her hand. The metal was scratched and rough, such a contrast to her smooth pole. She tightened her grip on the pistol, and pulled the trigger. . .

BAM! The shot echoed throughout the tiny room. Since she didn't have any eye or ear protection, her ears started ringing and the force of the shot pushed against her eyes. The gun jumped up, and the shot ended up going through the ceiling. Instinctively, Zoey dropped the gun and stumbled backwards.

She looked guiltily at Louis, who was holding his ears. He said something to Zoey, but she couldn't hear. Her ears were still ringing.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" she yelled. "SPEAK LOUDER."

"I SAID, WE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT IN A SMALL ROOM!" Louis screamed back.

Alarmed at the noise, Bill and Francis came running out of the safe room, just in time to witness five infected banging on the door, attracted to the noise. Bill shook his head, sighed, and grabbed a gun. With it, he shot all five zombies neatly in the head. He said something to Francis, which Zoey couldn't make out. Her ears were still ringing, but not as badly as before.

"Let's try it outside," Louis said loudly to Zoey. She shook her head.

They had lied. The books, the movies, the video games, even her own teammates had lied. Firing a gun wasn't easy! There was the force pushing your face, the heat, the sound. . . Zoey missed her pole. She missed the silent comfort of thrusting it in a zombie's gut.

"C'mon Zo, you can do it," Louis said comfortingly. "It takes a while to get used to. Trust me, I was that bad when I first did tried firing one. It'll be better outside, I swear."

Zoey wished she could refuse and go back to using her knife, but she saw the looks Francis and Bill were giving her. They probably thought she was just a pathetic little girl who couldn't handle a gun. Zoey stood up straighter. She'd show them!

She grabbed the pistol and went outside with Louis. On a tree, Louis drew the head of a zombie. Zoey couldn't help but laugh. Louis was a horrible drawer, and the zombie's head looked more like a dog.

"Okay," Louis called out to her. "Your motivation is anger! This zombie just, uh, stole your IPod. You want to murder it!"  "I never had an IPod!" Zoey called out to Louis, rolling her eyes.

"Besides, a zombie doesn't have to steal your IPod for you to shoot it. It's a zombie, you kill it anyway!" Bill cried out.

"That's a zombie?" Francis muttered to Zoey. "I thought it was a goat." Zoey giggled.

"Whatever. Just focus and shoot," Louis told Zoey, coming to stand next to her.

Zoey took a deep breath and held it. She brought the gun up to her eyes, squinted them, and fired.

A bang came from the gun, and the gun jolted upwards again, but this time Zoey could handle it. A nice, clean hole now was pierced through the tree. Smiling, Zoey tried it again, and again, and again. And when zombies came to investigate the noise, Zoey was able to shoot them too. She didn't make a headshot, but there'd be time for that. For now, this was good enough.

A day later, when they left the safe room, Zoey had two pistols stuck on her belt and a hunting rifle in her hand. In the corner of the safe room, forgotten, lay a pole with a knife taped to the end.


End file.
